A Dish Served Very Cold
by Shergar
Summary: It is the night of Mike Stone's retirement party, but an ex-con, newly released, doesn't intend for it to be a joyous celebration.
1. Chapter 1

A Dish Served Very Cold

The phone ringing was an annoyance that he could have done without. Absently reaching for it, he barked, "Keller!" into the receiver. With his other hand, he put a large red question mark in the margin of the essay he was correcting. Honestly, did none of his students listen to what he said?

"Relax, buddy boy," replied a familiar voice. "I'm not going to ask for help with my course work."

"Mike!" Steve exclaimed, putting down his pen. He glanced up at the clock on the wall of his office. "Why are you calling me? I'm going to be seeing you in a couple of hours."

"Can't one friend call another?" Mike Stone, Steve's former detective partner and long-time friend retorted.

"Mike, I know you," Steve smiled, leaning back into his chair. "I've known you for a long time. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about your retirement party and I won't be late." He laughed. "It's all Jeannie and the children have been talking about for the last few weeks."

"I know," Mike sighed, sounding gloomy. "It's going to be a big bash, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah," Steve assured him solemnly. "Huge. Everyone you've ever met is going to be there. In fact, the guards from the prisons are scrubbing down the inmates, ready to bring them all along too." He laughed at the weak joke, but there wasn't a corresponding laugh from Mike. In fact, there was only silence. "Mike? He asked. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah," Mike replied and there was something in his voice that raised the hairs on the back of Steve's neck. He knew his father-in-law well.

"What is it?" Steve asked. "What's wrong?"

"Steve, I don't want to worry you, but Leonard Cord was released yesterday."

For a few blessed moments, Steve had no idea who Leonard Cord was, but then his memory came back with a bang. Cord. He had been one total nutter. He had threatened Jeannie and then had lured Steve to the Legion of Honour and ambushed him there. Steve gingerly felt the back of his head where Cord had hit him with a flashlight. Under his hair, there was a small scar where he had needed stitches. Cord had promised Mike that he would come back and kill him.

"Already?" Steve asked, but he knew about 20 years had passed since Cord was arrested. After all, he and Jeannie had been married for over 15 years and their children were just about to become teenagers. "Mike…"

"I told Jeannie about it," Mike interrupted. Jeannie had been in town with Mike and the children for the last few days, putting the finishing touches to the retirement party. "I've got someone watching her and the children." Mike adored his two grandchildren. "I want to assign someone to you, too, Steve."

"Mike, I'll be fine," Steve assured him. "After all, Cord doesn't know to look for me here at Berkeley, does he?" There was comforting logic in that, but Steve knew only too well that Cord might indeed know that he was at the university now.

"I want you to be careful," Mike urged. He knew Steve. For all that his former partner was a staid college professor these days, he still had a reckless streak and he had never allowed the gunshot wound that ended his police career to stop him doing much else during his lifetime.

"I'll be careful," Steve promised. "Mike, I've got to go now and get this marking done, but I'll see you in a couple of hours, okay?"

"Okay, buddy boy," Mike agreed. "Just don't forget, or Jeannie will make your life a misery."

"I won't forget," Steve promised again. He was smiling as he hung up the phone, but the smile soon ran away from his face. It was disquieting to think that Cord was out on the streets again. Steve had hoped that he would never be released. He did not kid himself that Cord would have reformed while he was inside; the man was too unstable for that.

Repressing a shudder, Steve turned his attention to the last of the papers he had to mark. Really – did these students not listen to a word he said?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With only minutes to spare before the deadline he had set himself, Steve finished his marking and left the stack of papers on his desk. He grabbed his car keys and jacket and left his comfortably appointed office, locking the door behind him. His thoughts were now all focused on getting to the city on time for the party. He was looking forward to it, but it really was the end of an era. While he didn't have to worry about losing track of Mike after he retired, it seemed to Steve to point up that they were all getting older. There were days when Steve was reminded that he would never be the same again after that bullet lodged in his heart. He kept himself fit to reduce the strain on his heart that being overweight would bring, but keeping fit was getting harder as he got older.

Sighing, he walked down the quiet corridor, heading for the car park. Long gone was the Porsche he had loved so much. It had died of natural old age and the journey into parenthood. These days, he drove a four-door family car. Soon, his son would be taking his driver's permit and that would probably be the last Steve would see of his car, as Mike junior would be driving it all the time. Steve smiled.

There was a sudden movement behind him and, too late, Steve remembered Mike's warning. Even as he whirled to meet the movement, he didn't really think it could be Cord. This was Berkeley, after all. Bad things didn't happen here on campus.

In the second before a heavy object slammed down on his skull, Steve caught a glimpse of his assailant's face. Twenty years had passed, but there was no mistake. It was Cord. Steve crumpled to the ground, unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

"He's late," Jeannie said, as she stood beside Mike as they greeted the guests.

"He'll be here," Mike soothed her. He patted her hand. "He's an absent minded professor these days remember," he teased.

"Not that absent minded," Jeannie retorted. "Didn't you phone him?"

"Of course I did, sweetheart," Mike replied. "I warned him." Mike hated to bring up Cord's reappearance, especially as this was meant to be a happy occasion. "He'll be careful."

The guests continued to arrive and Mike was surprised by how many people came. His former captain, Rudy, started the proceedings with a speech that brought a blush to Mike's face and there was applause and laughter as well. Mike rose to respond, and all the while, he was aware that Steve had not yet arrived. Jeannie's face was tight with worry. Mike kept his remarks brief and the guests were soon mingling and picking over the buffet.

A hand on Mike's shoulder caused the detective to turn to meet Lenny's genial face. "Nice speech, Mike," he smiled. "Congratulations on your retirement." His smile faltered. "What's wrong?" Almost at once, Lenny glanced around, scanning the crowd. "Where's Steve?"

"I don't know," Mike confessed. "I spoke to him a couple of hours ago and I don't think he would forget about tonight so quickly…" He trailed off miserably.

"You think something's happened to him?" Lenny asked.

"Yes," Mike sighed. "I suppose you won't know about Cord. Leonard Cord was released yesterday. He killed a friend of Jeannie's and threatened to kill her. Steve and I hunted him down. He knocked Steve out and tied him up and when I found Cord, he wanted me to kill him. I wouldn't do that. I couldn't. Cord said he would get us."

"Steve's pretty resilient," Lenny reminded Mike, "and he can look after himself."

"Cord is dangerous," Mike replied flatly. "He was always a big, strong man and I wouldn't think he's changed – not with a gym available to him. I should've sent someone to protect Steve, no matter what he said."

"You don't know that anything's happened to Steve," Lenny objected. "He might have run into traffic or been held up by a needy student."

"You don't believe that any more than I do." Mike met Lenny's eyes and the psychologist had to nod his agreement. "You don't know Cord."

"Mike!" It was the bar tender. "Phone!"

"That'll be Steve," Lenny predicted. He watched as Mike went to the phone. It was with horror that he saw the colour draining from Mike's face and the lieutenant sank into a seat, suddenly looking his age. Lenny hurried towards him, subliminally aware of Jeannie closing in on the other side. They dead-heated at Mike's side as the receiver slipped from his hand.

"Mike?" Jeannie grasped her father's shoulder, suddenly terrified by his display of vulnerability. Tears sprang to her eyes as Mike slowly put a hand on her arm. "Steve," she whispered. "He's not…" A sob broke free of her control.

Patting her arm, Mike spoke through numb lips. "Cord has him."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Wakening up was not pleasant. Steve was vaguely aware that he had been drifting in and out of consciousness for some time. Now, he found himself in a place that was completely dark. There was not a single chink of light anywhere. The air was cold and smelt musty. Somewhere there was water dripping, but Steve could hear no other sound. His hands were bound tightly behind his back and were already growing numb. A gag was between his teeth.

The intense throbbing in his head made it difficult to think. Steve remembered Mike's phone call and leaving his office and then… For a time, he could not think past that moment, but as he drifted uncomfortably on the pain, a flash of memory made him flinch as he recalled Cord's face.

Remembering that moment brought other memories to the surface. They were vague and he couldn't quite get hold of them, but he recalled being jolted around and thought that had been Cord carrying him to a car. He kind of remembered being in the trunk of a car, with a solid object – a tire iron? – sliding around in there with him. His ribs were tender enough to suggest that memory was accurate.

The thought that he was at Cord's mercy was a very scary one. Steve had suffered a concussion at Cord's hands 20 years before and the fact that he had clearly been planning this for a long time suggested to Steve that this scenario was unlikely to have a happy outcome. He would die at Cord's hands, one way or another. He would either be left here to starve, or he would be used as a pawn in whatever nefarious scheme Cord had in mind to torture Mike and would then be killed. Neither option held any appeal.

Getting out of his prison was his first priority if he wanted to thwart Cord. Steve struggled to his feet fighting the dizziness the movement evoked. He leaned unsteadily against the cold, slimy wall until his head stopped spinning, shivering with cold and injury. First things first; rubbing his head on the wall and his own shoulder, stopping frequently when the pain in his head got too bad, he was able to pull the cloth gag from his mouth.

Feeling fractionally better for that small victory, Steve straightened cautiously and took a step, keeping his hands against the wall. The floor under his feet was uneven and now that he was on his feet, Steve became aware that his pants were damp and clinging to him. His shirt was also damp, particularly the collar. Steve wondered briefly what had happened to his jacket. It would have kept him a little warmer.

Keeping his left shoulder against the wall, Steve felt his way around his prison. There was an iron door, set so tightly into the stone walls that Steve could not even get a nail between the door and the frame. He could find no handy nails so beloved by TV series to fray the ropes against. There was no window that he could find, although that didn't mean there hadn't been one and it was blocked up. Although the drip of water sounded like it was in the room, he couldn't find it. He strained his eyes against the darkness and saw nothing. He feared that he had been struck blind.

The room measured four paces by four paces and there was no way for him to get out.


	3. Chapter 3

The party was over before it had even begun. Steve and Jeannie's children had been taken to a safe location by Hasseejian and another plain clothes officer. Mike had wanted Jeannie to go too, but she had refused. "Steve is my husband," she hissed at Mike, as though her father did not know that. "I have to be here."

It seemed as though the entire police department had been mobilised. Campus security at Berkeley had been alerted to check Steve's office and car; an APB had been issued for Cord and also for Steve. Cord's files were being brought from Records and a request had gone to the prison for an up-to-date photo if they had one.

"Cord is clever," Mike explained to Lenny. He and Jeannie were holding hands, drawing strength and comfort from one another. "He's had 20 years to plan this. Finding Steve won't be easy."

"What did Cord say?" Lenny asked. He wasn't the only person who wanted to know this answer.

"He's going to call the precinct in four hours," Mike replied. "He said he would give all his demands then, but I was to remember that if the cops got too close, Steve would pay the penalty."

"What does he mean by that?" Lenny was working in the dark, not knowing anything about Cord.

"He'll kill him," Jeannie whispered. "But only after he's got what he wants from us."

Troubled by the expression on Jeannie's face, Lenny reached out to give her some comfort. Jeannie pulled away. "He wanted to kill me," she said. "I saw his face after he killed Valerie." She swallowed. "I'll never forget it. He wants to kill me and he'll kill Mike and Steve, too."

"He won't kill Steve," Mike promised.

"He will!" Jeannie flared. "He'll make us do all kinds of things, promising to let Steve go at the end of it and you know that he'll kill him in the end, after he's killed me!" She burst into tears.

"Jeannie, I'd like to give you a sedative," Lenny suggested tentatively.

Brushing the tears from her face, Jeannie scorched him with a look. "I don't need a sedative," she snapped. "I'm fine! I have to be fine! We have to find Steve."

"We will find Steve," Mike agreed and hugged his daughter. "Let's go down to the precinct, and find out as much as we can about what Cord has been doing while he's been in prison. That will help us find him."

"All right," Jeannie agreed and leaned on Mike's strong arm as they left the hall.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A sound – shocking in the stillness of the space – made Steve lift his head. He felt really ill; his head was throbbing, he was nauseous and his arms were aching from their restrained position. He had struggled with the bonds as best he could, but they were going nowhere. He remembered fighting to escape from the ropes that Cord had used to tie him the last time they met, and he had not managed to escape then, either. He shivered as a key scraped in the lock of the iron door and it wasn't entirely from the pervading cold and damp. He was afraid.

Once upon a time, as a rookie cop, he would never have admitted his fear, even to himself. He was older and, he hoped, wiser now and knew that admitting his fear meant he was dealing with it. That knowledge didn't make him feel any better, however. He started to struggle to his feet.

The door opened and blazing light hit his eyes, making his already throbbing headache so much worse. He winced and ducked his head, and in those few seconds he couldn't see anything, Cord crossed the room and yanked him to his feet, shoving him against the wall with unnecessary force. "So we meet again, Inspector," Cord sneered. "Or should I say Professor?"

"Whatever you think you want, you won't get it," Steve gasped through a dry mouth.

"No?" Cord laughed. He gestured around him with one hand. "How do you like your accommodations?" he asked. "Completely escape proof and so deserted that you'll never be found. The old man and the girl will spend hours hunting for you and in the end I'll kill them and you'll never know when they died. I'll visit you regularly until the end, though. I wouldn't want you to think I don't care about you."

"You're sick, Cord," Steve growled. "You won't get Mike and Jeannie. I won't let you."

"No?" Cord laughed again. "How're you gonna stop me, Professor? In case you hadn't noticed, you're all tied up."

Steve might have been older and wiser, but he was still Steve. In one of the craziest, most desperate moves he had ever made, he head-butted Cord right on the nose. He felt the other man's nose break and the warmth of his blood as it splattered onto Steve's face and neck. He almost retched on the spot, but he knew he had to take advantage of this opportunity. He pulled free as Cord stumbled back, clutching at his nose, and ran towards the door.

It was difficult running with his hands bound behind him, but Steve put every ounce of speed he had into his pace, forcing himself to ignore the throbbing in his head as much as he could, gulping in air and resisting the urge to look behind him.

Outside of the small room he was in was a corridor. It ran from left to right and he instinctively turned right. There was no indication where the exit might be, but he had to keep moving. From behind him, he heard an enraged bellow and then heavy footsteps running after him. Gritting his teeth and stumbling on, Steve could hear the steps growing closer.

He still thought he had a chance of escaping. He couldn't afford to think otherwise, but his hopes were cruelly dashed as he rounded a corner and found himself facing a dead end! Panting, he glanced around wildly, hoping to see another corridor or room that he hadn't seen on his desperate flight, but there was nothing.

"Not so clever, are we, Professor?" Cord taunted, slowing to a walk now that he had Steve cornered again. "I would say you're going to pay for that, but since you're going to die anyway, what's the point? Of course, I would enjoy making you pay." He closed in, using his greater height and weight to herd Steve into a corner. The younger man was panting heavily, his headache now so bad he could barely see. He vowed he was not going to go down without a fight.

Squinting heavily, Steve kicked out, aiming for Cord's groin, but Cord knew more about close-quarters dirty fighting than Steve had ever learned and was not hampered by bound hands. He dodged the kick quite easily and in seconds had Steve pinned against the wall. "Your manners leave a lot to be desired," Cord panted. Blood streamed from his nose, but he didn't appear to notice it anymore.

Keeping Steve pinned against the wall, he untied the bandanna he had used to gag the former detective before and jammed it back between his teeth, knotting it as tightly as he could. Steve resisted the urge to groan and sent a plea to whomever might be listening that he not puke, as he knew that he would choke to death if he did. Cord grabbed his arm and dragged him along the corridor, pushing him back into the cell he had come from originally. Steve tumbled to the floor, which was clearly Cord's intent.

"I had wanted you to smile for the photo," the madman went on, producing a Polaroid camera from a bag, "but the gag looks nice on you too. Watch the birdie," he cooed and the camera flashed a couple of times. "These are good; look," he said when they were developed and he showed them to Steve. The blood from Cord's nose was clearly visible on Steve's face, as was a dark stain on the collar of his cream shirt. Steve was horrified.

"Now," Cord said, straightening up, "I've got a date with your wife and father-in-law. I wouldn't want to let them down, you know. I'll be back soon and in the meantime, you be good." He laughed and left.

The door banged hollowly and the sound of the lock clicking closed was soul destroying. For a moment, Steve allowed himself to hope that the light would be left on, but after several tantalising seconds, it went out and he was left in total darkness again. He counted himself lucky that Cord had not beaten him to a pulp. Dragging himself off the floor, he slid over to a wall and began the laborious process of scraping the gag out of his mouth once more.


	4. Chapter 4

The time had ticked slowly past as they waited for Cord to get in touch. Jeannie's nerves frayed visibly, but none of the men suggested she go home or offered patronising platitudes that Steve would be okay. Cord was a dangerous man. He had killed before and he had had 20 years to plan his revenge. There was a proverb about revenge being a dish best served cold, but this dish was very cold indeed.

The prison, despite the late hour, had been very cooperative in sending things down. Mike had always hated the new reliance on computers, but it certainly helped in retrieving information quickly. This 'internet' thing apparently had its uses after all. That apart, the information that was provided to them was disquieting. Cord had spent the intervening 20 researching the history of San Francisco, with emphasis on the underground installations from WWII and old public utility buildings. He hadn't stopped there. He had also looked in depth at other old buildings. Nobody had thought anything of it at the time. It seemed as though he was a history buff, looking into the history of his adopted home town. Now, it seemed as though nothing was further from the truth. He had been looking for a place to hide a captive. As Mike looked over the list, it seemed that there were potentially hundreds of places he could have utilised. As San Francisco had grown and been modernised and updated and extended, the list of unused municipal storage places seemed to have mushroomed. It brought home to the detectives – as if they hadn't already known – that finding Steve would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Mike." The desk sergeant from downstairs appeared in the doorway to the squad room. "A kid brought this in for you." He held an envelope gingerly in a handkerchief.

"A kid? How old a kid?" Mike asked, as he also took his handkerchief to take the envelope.

"About 10," the sergeant replied. "He was given $10 to deliver it to the station. I showed him the picture of Cord and he said that was him who gave him the money."

"I take it you let the kid go," Mike commented as someone dashed off to get a fingerprint kit.

"I didn't see any point in keeping him," the sergeant agreed.

"Thanks," Mike said, and the man departed back downstairs.

"What do you think it is?" Jeannie asked, looking at the envelope as though wishing she could see through it.

"I don't know," Mike replied. He knew it was something to do with Steve, but quite what he wasn't sure. A note maybe?

It didn't take long to dust the envelope, but the only prints that showed up on it were very small. Sighing, Mike discarded the handkerchief and, using a letter opener, carefully slit the envelope and shook the contents onto the table. Jeannie let out a moan of anguish as the photos became visible. "Oh God," she whispered and Lenny put his arm around her.

The Polaroid snaps were very clear. Steve was sprawled on the floor. There was blood splattered on his face and neck and the dark stain on the collar of his shirt could only be more blood. A red bandanna was jammed tightly between his teeth and his hands, just visible, were tied behind him. From the way that Steve was squinting at the camera, both Jeannie and Mike recognised at once that he had a very bad headache.

"Get these to the lab and get them blown up," Mike ordered, thrusting them at Lessing. "I want every possible detail about the background." He took Jeannie from Lenny and cradled her head against his shoulder, unconsciously rocking her back and forth. "He'll be all right, sweetheart," he crooned. "I promise."

"You can't promise me that," Jeannie sobbed. "I'm not a child, Mike." She wiped her nose on a handkerchief that Lenny handed her. "Oh, Daddy," she sighed. "Why did this have to happen to us?" She broke down into hard sobbing and Mike drew her down to a seat beside him, never relinquishing his hold. Lenny ushered the other detectives out of Mike's office to give them some privacy.

Glancing at his watch, Lenny saw that there was less than 10 minutes now before Cord's four hour deadline was up. "We need to be on the ball when Cord calls," Lenny said to Lessing. "What do we have to do?"

"We're ready to trace the call as soon as he's on the line," Lessing replied. He pointed to one of the other detectives who sat at a desk. "We have patrol cars in all areas, ready and waiting to go wherever we send them."

"Is that it?" Lenny asked, and realised how insulting that sounded. "I mean…"

"I know what you mean," Lessing agreed. "It doesn't sound like much, but it's all we've got right now. Hopefully the lab will come through with something from the photo, or maybe Cord will give something away that will let us find Steve."

"Maybe Steve will manage to free himself," Lenny hoped.

"If he could, he would have done so by now," Lessing sighed. "Remember, Lenny, we're all older and Steve had a career ending injury. He's well, but it has affected his life. How could it not?"

"In what way has it affected his life?" Lenny asked, for he had always had the impression that Steve was as fit and robust as he had always been.

"He's more susceptible to viruses," Lessing replied. "Things that might not bother you or I can be really serious for him. He's been hospitalised a couple of times with pneumonia over the years."

"I didn't know," Lenny gasped.

"I don't think Steve wanted to advertise it," Lessing advised. "I knew because I was working with Mike and Dan for a while."

"Where is Dan?" Lenny suddenly wondered, for he realised that he hadn't seen Mike's partner this evening at all.

"He's on vacation," Lessing replied. "He'd booked the time off ages ago and then Mike decided to retire and the dates clashed. Dan insisted on Mike going ahead with the party, even though he couldn't come. He would have been here otherwise." Dan Robbins had replaced Steve as Mike's partner and in the interim had married and had a family. Now that Lessing had mentioned it, Lenny was aware that Dan had said something about camping in Montana. That was Lenny's idea of a vacation from hell, but to each their own.

The phone rang and the cop sitting by the desk grabbed up his phone and spoke. Mike let his extension ring one more time before he answered it. "Stone."

"Ah, Lieutenant. How lovely to talk to you again."

"Cord. Where is Steve Keller?" Mike could see the other cop through the glass of his office. He had to keep Cord on the line long enough for a trace to go through.

"He's secure, don't worry," Cord replied. "Did you like my snaps? They'll make quite an addition to the family album." Cord laughed. He felt utterly invincible. He had the cops exactly where he wanted them and soon – soon – he would have his hands on Jeannie Stone Keller and he would make her pay, just like he had tried to do 20 years before.

"What do you want?" Mike asked flatly.

"I want to meet you and your darling little Jeannie," Cord replied. "Meet me at the Temple of Music in Golden Gate Park. You'd better come alone with your daughter if you want to see your precious Keller alive again. Understand?"

"I understand," Mike growled. "When should we be there?"

"You have 20 minutes," Cord replied and the phone went dead.

All eyes turned to the detective who was tracing the call. After a moment, he spoke into the phone and hung up. "The call was traced to a phone box about three blocks from Golden Gate Park," he reported. "Cars are just moments away."

Those moments seemed to stretch into eternity. Jeannie wanted to run from the room and race all the way to Golden Gate Park, but it seemed that nobody else felt the same compulsion. The air of expectation in the room was almost painful. Then the phone rang again and the detective answered it. His slumped shoulders told them the news before he could say anything. Mike, his face tight with worry, reached for his trench coat and his fedora. Jeannie snatched up her jacket.

"You're staying here," Mike told her and there was no doubt in anyone's mind that that was an order.

"I'm coming!" Jeannie insisted, her voice panicky.

"No," Mike replied. "You're staying here. I can't put your life at risk, and even if I could, Steve would never forgive me. We have a plain clothes WPC ready and waiting downstairs. She's coming with me. You're staying here and if I have to handcuff you to a chair or have you locked in the cells to make sure of that, then that's what I'll do!" his face softened. "I love you, Jeannie. You have to think of the children now, too, not just Steve."

"I am thinking about them," Jeannie whispered. "I think about them without a father." But she knew what Mike was saying and as much as she hated to admit it, her father was right. She couldn't go with him. She had to do the hardest thing she had ever done. She had to wait at the station and worry not just about her soul mate, but about her father, too. "Make sure you both come back," she urged him and kissed his cheek.

From somewhere, Mike found a smile. "I promise." He nodded to the other men and headed out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Exhaustion and injury had closed Steve's eyes against his will. He woke with a start, unsure what had woken him. The room was as pitch black as it had been when he fell asleep, and the silence was still only broken by the continuous, monotonous drip, drip, drip of water somewhere nearby. The liquid sound intensified the raging thirst that Steve was suffering from. He had managed to get the gag out of his mouth for a second time, but it had been much harder. His cheek was scraped from the stone wall he had been rubbing against. His headache was worse than ever. He was cold, shivering and his clothes felt very damp. He wondered vaguely, why his clothes were so damp when he could not find even a trickle of water to assuage his ravening thirst. Tentatively, he touched his tongue to the cold wall he was slumped beside, but the slimy stone tasted so rank that he abandoned his idea of licking the wall to get some moisture. He wasn't that desperate – yet. In a few hours, who knew?

Suddenly, Steve knew he was going to throw up. He struggled to his knees, groaning as his head started spinning, and slid across the floor, not stopping until he hit the opposite wall. His bout of sickness was unpleasant in the extreme and the smell made him feel even more nauseous. Clumsily, he wiped his mouth on the shoulder of his shirt and slithered on his knees back across the tiny room. He slid down the wall, allowing it to support his back and drearily contemplated his plight. He was concussed, with a ferocious headache, nauseated, and tightly tied. His hands were mostly numb and Steve knew that if the circulation was cut off for too long, he might lose the use of his hands. It was a terrifying thought. Even more terrifying was the thought that there was nothing he could do about any of it. He was going to die in this small, dark room and nobody would ever find his body.

Curling in on himself, Steve lay down again. Perhaps if he slept some more, his headache might abate slightly and an idea might come to him on how to get out of this mess. He shivered once more. He was so cold; so very cold.

Sleep swept over him in a warm wave and he succumbed instantly.

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There were no people in the park. The fog was drifting in from the ocean and the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge seemed to float eerily above the invisible water. The young woman with Mike, Penny Sandison, drew her coat closer around her shoulders. She bore a striking resemblance to Jeannie and wore party-type clothes which were not designed to keep her warm outdoors. Not talking, she and Mike drew closer to the striking Temple of Music. There was no sign of Cord, but Mike had had experience of this man before in a similar setting and knew that he would be somewhere close by, gun in hand.

"That's far enough!"

The voice came from behind the pillars of the Temple. Mike and Penny stopped and Penny instinctively stepped closer to the older man by her side. "We're here, Cord," Mike called in reply. "Where's Steve?"

A man stepped from behind a pillar, his gun aimed at them. "I'm afraid he couldn't come," Cord retorted with mock civility. "He's rather tied up at the moment." He laughed at his own joke. "Tied up – get it?" he asked.

"I get it," Mike replied. "We're here. What do you want?"

"You know what I want, Stone. I want what I always wanted – her!" He pointed towards 'Jeannie'. "If you want to see your precious husband alive, sweetheart, come over here right now."

Quite naturally, Penny hesitated. They had discussed various scenarios, including this one, on the drive over, but it was one thing to talk about what might happen and another altogether when the scenario started going down. "No!" Mike responded and he sounded every bit the anxious, scared father.

"Oh, Stone, you are so predictable," Cord sneered and he fired a shot at Mike. Penny screamed as the bullet took the older man in the centre of his chest. Mike went down, his hat rolling off. Before Penny could move, Cord grabbed her and swung her into his arms, looking down into her face.

That was the pivotal moment. He looked at Penny and she knew she had to react. She brought her knee up sharply between Cord's legs, but he was expecting resistance. Penny did not know Jeannie Stone, but she had been told how feisty Jeannie was and thought this was a move that the other woman would try. Her father was a cop and her husband an ex-cop; she would know how to defend herself.

From all around, cops were pouring onto the scene. Penny had been so caught up in the on-going drama that she hadn't realised that the signal had been given. Cord had not totally escaped her knee, but he was far from totally incapacitated. He turned to run and Penny dug her heels in. Her weight was negligible to him, but her stubborn resistance was enough to slow him down. The nearest cops were just a few feet away and Cord cut his losses. He let go of 'Jeannie' and took to his heels.

He didn't get far. Someone jumped him, and before Cord could respond, other men were there, adding their weight to the fight and the criminal was subdued. Penny sank to the ground, clutching her coat to her trembling body. Someone was talking to her, but she couldn't make out the words. Her eyes were focused on Mike Stone, who lay unmoving on the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

Cord sat slumped in the chair in the interrogation room, but he was far from vanquished. A sly grin played around the corners of his mouth, especially when he looked through the glass window to the anxious detectives in the other room.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Lenny asked the young policewoman again.

Dressed in her own clothes – jeans and a warm sweater – Penny nodded. "I'm fine," she assured Lenny. "Back to normal now I'm warm." She glanced into Mike's office. "How's Mike?"

"He should be at the hospital," Lenny grumbled, "but you know how stubborn he is."

"Only from hearsay," Penny reminded the psychologist. "Tonight is the first time I ever met him." She had been unable to verbalise her relief when she saw that Mike was alive. The bullet proof vest he had worn under his coat had stopped the bullet. It had knocked the wind out of him and left him at best badly bruised and at worst with possible cracked ribs, but the older man had brushed off the concern and refused to go to the hospital. At the moment, Jeannie – the real Jeannie – was hovering over him worriedly, for Mike was pale and in obvious pain.

As Lenny straightened up, Mike came to his feet, slowly and carefully. "All right, let's crack him," he ordered. "Penny; Jeannie, I want you both to come with me. Let's see if we can shake him." Mike led the way to the interrogation room. Lenny followed closely behind, Lessing on his heels.

As Mike entered the room, Cord smirked and for an instant, the easy-going lieutenant wanted to smash other man's face in. But just for an instant; Mike wasn't that kind of cop, that kind of man. He stepped aside and Penny entered the room and Cord licked his lips. Penny shuddered in distaste. She, too, stepped aside and watched closely as Cord realised that he had been duped. Jeannie and Penny were a lot alike, but Penny was younger and now that they were together, Cord could see that Penny lacked Jeannie's vitality. He had been fooled by his own mind, remembering Jeannie as she had been 20 years before, not projecting how she would look now. He started to lunge to his feet, anger flooding his veins, but Lessing pushed into the room and used his weight to subdue the prisoner once more.

"Where is Steve Keller?" Mike asked, his voice as dispassionate as he could make it.

"You'll never know, old man," Cord sneered, recovering himself and realising that he still held the ace.

The tension in the room could have been cut by a knife. Cord was the only person who knew where Steve was, and there was very little they could legally do to make him tell them the location. Cord was a tough con, who had spent most of his life behind bars. The threat of prison did nothing to faze him. Mike put a restraining hand on Jeannie's arm. Cord noticed. "Let the little lady try it," he offered, sneering. "I'd like to get my hands on her." His leer was more than suggestive. This time, it was Lenny who put a hand on Mike's arm.

"Don't, Mike," he warned.

The tension eased slightly in the muscles beneath his hand. Mike glanced at Lenny and nodded. "Where is he, Cord?" Mike asked again.

"Somewhere you'll never find him," Cord retorted.

Turning abruptly, Mike ushered the two women from the room. Lenny and Lessing followed, leaving Cord alone. "I want to see every item he had on him," Mike ordered harshly.

"There wasn't much," Lessing offered and he fetched the manila envelope that contained the prisoner's personal effects and tipped it out on the desk.

Lessing was right; there wasn't much. There was a worn leather wallet with about $30 in it; a few pennies of change, a hotel key from a down-town dive and two other keys. One of the keys was very old fashioned, long and heavy, made of brass and had no doubt once been shiny. The other was smaller and most likely for a padlock.

Gingerly, Mike picked up the old key. He examined it closely, and then tapped it thoughtfully against his fingers. "What do you bet this opens some old municipal building?" he mused aloud. "Somewhere unused?"

"Somewhere in Golden Gate Park?" Lessing asked.

"Could be," Mike agreed. "Let's start there. What is there that is unused?"

"Not the Music School," Penny suggested.

"No, definitely not," Mike agreed. "It's too well frequented."

"Same for the DeYoung Museum," Jeannie mentioned. "Or the Academy of Sciences."

"The Japanese Garden, conservatory and arboretum are out, too," Lenny agreed. "And Kezar Stadium has been rebuilt, so not there."

"What about the windmills?" Jeannie asked, suddenly excited. "They aren't used any more."

"Good idea!" Mike exclaimed. He glanced at Jeannie, remembering, as she did, the times they had spent in the park when she was a child, exploring round about the fascinating buildings. He had always regretted that they had been unable to go inside and explore them more. "Let's get down there."

"What about Cord?" Lenny asked.

"What about him?" Mike retorted. "I'm not gonna ask him anything! He'd only lie to us and I would far rather that he stayed here and sweated it out." Mike glanced across to the interrogation room and saw Cord looking at him. He smiled slightly. "I have a good feeling about this," he commented as the prisoner frowned at him.

"I'm coming, too," Jeannie announced, in a tone that implied she would brook no arguments this time.

While Mike had his doubts as to the merits of that idea – they did not know if Steve was alive or not – he knew he couldn't refuse Jeannie this. She had been incredibly brave and resilient during this whole crisis, but she was reaching the end of her tether and the last thing he wanted was for her to break down crying or shouting. That would give Cord far too much satisfaction. "All right," he agreed. "Penny, I'd like you to come, too," he added. If the worst had happened, it would do Jeannie good to have a woman to lean on.

"I'm coming, too," Lenny declared and Mike simply nodded. With Lessing also in tow, they headed down to the parking garage, leaving Cord staring after them.


	7. Chapter 7

The unmistakable need to puke woke Steve from sleep. He was disoriented as he opened his eyes to total darkness and barely managed to roll onto his side before he threw up violently. He shivered as his body finally stopped heaving and somehow was able to push away from the mess. The smell was almost enough to make him heave again and he couldn't control the despairing thought that this was how he was going to end his days; shut in a dark, stinking tomb.

A spasm of pain shot across his shoulders and down his arms as his muscles started cramping. His hands were almost completely numb and even wriggling his fingers did little to dispel that sensation. He had some tingling of pins and needles, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

The cold seemed to have intensified. Steve wondered if that was just his imagination, or if it was because it was night time. He had no idea of the time. It had been early evening when Cord had captured him, but Steve had no idea how long he had been unconscious and no idea how long he had slept, if sleep it really was, and no idea of the amount of time that had passed in between those periods. From what he could tell, his watch had gone and he was pretty sure his wallet was also missing. Cord hadn't missed a trick. If his body was ever discovered here, it would take some time before his remains could be identified.

"Damn you, Leonard Cord!" Steve bellowed, his voice echoing back to him. It was a mistake to lose his temper. His headache, already unbearable, instantly got worse. He slumped in the corner he found himself in and willed sleep to come, but now that he wanted it, it was elusive. He tried to turn his thoughts away from his predicament, but found that it was impossible. His body screamed for his attention, telling him it was hurt and demanding that he do something about it. He couldn't. This was not a book, where the hero was able to 'ignore' his injuries and carry on fighting. This was reality, where being tied up was not vaguely glamorous, but was desperately uncomfortable to begin with and progressively more painful as the muscles protested being stuck in one position for hours and hours. A concussion could not be shaken off in just a day or so, or after a good night's sleep. Steve knew from past experience that a concussion could cause problems for weeks or months afterwards. The ropes around his wrists were not miraculously loosening and nobody was suddenly going to break down the door and rescue him. These were the facts of his life and he had to face up to them.

This was where he was going to die.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It really was amazing that even after facing up to the situation, Steve found himself trying, once more, to wriggle his wrists out of the ropes. He was no more successful than he had been at any other attempt and he could feel the skin was abraded and he suspected he was probably bleeding. The pain from his wrists was muted, drowned out by the numbness and the incessant pain in his head. The dripping of the water was driving him crazy. His mouth was as dry as a desert and he knew he had to be dehydrated from the vomiting. He was coughing now as well, and felt totally, thoroughly ill. He couldn't stop shivering and he was hopelessly dizzy. The walls that he could not see were spinning around him, increasing his feeling of nausea. It was hours since he had eaten, so there was nothing left to come up, but that wouldn't stop any dry heaving. Steve did not want to have to face that.

He was lying almost face down when he heard a sound. He had thought he was too exhausted to move, but adrenalin flooded his system as he feared that Cord was coming back. The thought that perhaps he had Jeannie and/or Mike was horrifying and somehow Steve found himself on his feet, braced against the wall, willing his unsteady legs to support him so he could attack the monster who was holding him prisoner.

There was no further sound for what seemed like several minutes, but could have been seconds or even hours for all Steve could tell. Then the key scraped in the lock of his door and he took a deep breath, coughing hard as he did so. He had to be ready! His life would depend on it. He forced his head up.

Light rushed into the room, striking him blind once more. The pain it induced in his head was agonising and Steve toppled to the floor, unable to bear it. The world seemed far away and he was only vaguely aware of hands on his body and he tried to wrench free unsuccessfully. As his body was brought upright, he thought he heard a voice calling his name. It sounded like Jeannie, but Steve was unable to open his eyes. He tumbled headlong into unconsciousness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With nothing else to go on apart from instinct, they headed back to Golden Gate Park and Mike flashed his badge to get them let in. Midnight had come and gone and Mike realised that he was no longer officially a cop. He didn't let that stop him, though.

Fog was drifting eerily between the trees as they walked briskly towards the ruinous Murphy's Windmill on the south side of the park. It was an elegant building, originally constructed to pump water to supply the park. It was no longer in use and had fallen into disrepair. Mike had memories of his mother talking about the windmills working, but they had been ruined for as long as he could remember.

Finding an entrance was easier said than done in the muted light and fog. The flashlight that they had seemed to be on its last legs, wavering and flickering in a most disconcerting manner. Lessing had had the foresight to bring the flashlight; it hadn't occurred to anyone else. When they did find the entrance, hiding behind a rather large, prickly bush, they found that the padlock key they had didn't fit the lock. The growth of the prickly bush, the lack of any broken leaves and no footprints on the ground suggested this was not the correct windmill.

With hopes partly dashed and yet new hopes rising that Steve might actually be in the other windmill, they trekked across the park, using only the sparse public lighting to save the dying flashlight. Jeannie was silent, hugging her arms around her body, keeping her head down. Penny, walking beside her, felt her heart go out to the older woman. Tales of Steve and Mike's partnership were legendary in the department. Penny had never known Steve; the only partner Mike had had during her period in the police was Dan Robbins, but Penny knew that everyone who had ever worked with Steve held him in a special place in their hearts. Steve and Jeannie's love story was also a legend, as was the shot that ended Steve's police career and almost his life.

It seemed to take forever before they found the other windmill. Its four sails were mostly lost in the fog and again they had difficulty finding the entrance. Mike stiffened as Lessing's light caught the shiny new padlock in the rusting iron catch. Jeannie's breath caught in her throat and Penny stepped closer as Mike tried the key in the padlock. There was a collective sigh as it opened.

Dank, damp air, smelling of mildew and rust met them, but it wasn't stale, telling the cops at least that the place had been opened recently. Mike and Lessing stepped forward and Lenny glanced uneasily around them. He worked in a nice, safe, warm office. He almost wished he had stayed behind. This working in the dark and the cold was not for him. He glanced at Jeannie to see how she was holding up, but her face was in shadow.

Inside the door, they found a jury-rigged light switch. Lessing gingerly activated it and the lights slowly came on. It didn't look safe, but it was better than the flashlight and Lessing returned the increasingly useless implement to his pocket. Since Steve had been gagged in the pictures, Mike didn't call out for him. They had no idea where Steve might be or what the layout was inside the windmill.

As he and the girls entered the building properly, Lenny realised that the corridor they were in did not curve around the building as he had expected it would. Instead, it ran straight from one side to the other, where it turned a corner and disappeared from view. It was longer than Lenny had thought it would be, but then the windmills had been much bigger than the pictures he had seen of them had led him to believe.

It was incredibly cold inside. It hadn't been warm outside, but the inside temperature was at least 10 degrees lower, if not more. The whole place felt damp, which was hardly surprising since the windmill had been used for pumping water. There was a constant dripping sound from somewhere.

"Mike." Lessing's voice was hushed and Lenny looked to where the detective was pointing. Another door was set into the wall. The ornate door handle seemed out of place in the utilitarian building and the brass was shiny. Mike produced the big old key from his pocket and glanced quickly at Jeannie before placing it in the lock. The key clanged noisily as it went in and they all braced themselves for the lock to make a squealing noise, but it turned noiselessly and smoothly. With his heart in his mouth, Mike turned the handle and opened the door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The stench that emanated from the small, dark room was unmistakable. Steve's battered figure was visible in the light spilling in from the door. He was on his feet, but leaning heavily on the wall. As the light hit him, he collapsed onto the floor and Jeannie cried out his name, pushing past both Mike and Lessing to kneel at her husband's side. She tried to lift him from the floor, but he was a dead weight; unconscious. "Steve!"

"We need to get him out of here," Lenny said, trying to maintain a façade of calm for Jeannie's sake.

"Cut him free first," Mike ordered, looking at Steve's swollen, discoloured hands. He fumbled in his pockets for a knife, but came up empty. Neither Lessing nor Lenny had one either. "Never mind. Lee; help me." Mike took Steve's shoulders and Lessing took his legs and with Jeannie anxiously watching, they carried the unconscious man from the building.

Outside, they laid Steve carefully on the grass. Lessing ran to summon help. Lenny had stayed behind for a moment to survey the tiny room where Steve had been kept. There was nothing in there to help them, but as he left, he spotted a broken, rusty knife lying on the ground. It wasn't really sharp, but it was the only thing they had and he took it outside with them. "Will this help?" he asked.

Giving the implement a quick once-over, Mike nodded. "Thanks," he grunted and gently turned Steve onto his side. Jeannie was cradling her husband's head in her lap and as Mike sawed at the rope binding his hands, she untied the gag which still hung around his neck. Steve didn't move. The back of his shirt was caked in blood and his hair was matted with it. One cheek was scraped raw. His breathing was harsh.

The rusty knife blade worked and the rope strands parted. Steve's arms fell into a more natural position and they could all see the bloody abrasions on his wrists. Steve let out a cry of pain and his eyes opened.

"Easy, easy," Mike soothed, as Jeannie whispered reassurances into his ears.

Agonising pain rushed down Steve's arms into his hands as the circulation, so long impeded by the ropes, got going again. Steve squinted around him, and blinked fiercely. "Jeannie?" he croaked disbelievingly.

"It's me, darling," Jeannie smiled through her tears. "You're safe now."

"No," Steve objected, struggling to rise. His arms refused to hold his weight and he slumped back against Jeannie as she gently tried to restrain him. "Cord! Jeannie, it's not safe! Cord is out there. He said…" Steve broke off into a hacking cough.

"We've got Cord, buddy boy," Mike assured him gruffly. Tears were standing in his eyes; he hated to see Steve in such a bad condition. "You're safe now. We're all safe now."

Too weak to struggle on, Steve slowly relaxed against Jeannie. "Safe?" he gasped, once he got his coughing under control. He shivered violently and swiftly found himself the recipient of several coats and jackets.

"Yes, safe," Mike replied firmly. He blinked back the tears. "We'll get you to a hospital." He glanced over at Jeannie when Steve didn't object. Jeannie was looking back at him, tears streaking her face and her expression worried. She hid her face and planted a gentle kiss on Steve's forehead.

"Jeannie," Steve sighed, his eyes once more tightly closed. "Love you."

"I love you, too, buster and don't you forget it," she reminded him.

"Didn't mean… to worry you," Steve told her. He was battling the pain, both from the incessant headache and the pins and needles in his hands. His arms hung limply by his side, refusing to take orders from his brain for the moment. Or was it his brain that was too muddled to send out the orders? He simply didn't know. He longed to pass out again, but was dimly aware that he needed to stay awake for Jeannie, so he fought to stay conscious.

"I can hear sirens," Penny said.

"Good," Mike replied. He never took his eyes off his injured son-in-law.

It was a matter of only a few minutes before the ambulance arrived, with Lessing directing them from the cab. Paramedics jumped out and quickly assessed Steve before starting an IV and loading him gently onto a stretcher. "I'm his wife," Jeannie declared.

"You can come with us," the paramedic replied. "We're taking him to the General Hospital."

"We'll be right behind you, sweetheart," Mike assured Jeannie as she climbed into the ambulance. It pulled away the moment the doors were shut. "Let's go," Mike instructed the others.


	8. Chapter 8

It was always going to be a long wait and they knew that. What Mike was not prepared for was Jeannie throwing her weight around and making him go and get his ribs checked out. Jeannie was right – the bullet had cracked ribs on both sides of his chest. Gone were the days when doctors bandaged ribs tightly. Now, he was given painkillers and advised to take time off. Mike laughed for a moment before the pain stopped him. He didn't need to worry about time off; he was officially retired now.

Back in the waiting room, Mike took over keeping Jeannie company to allow Lenny, Lessing and Penny to go to the rest room and get some coffee. The coffee was not particularly pleasant, but it beat some of the brews Mike had drunk over the years in the precinct.

For a while, Jeannie had been quiet. Finally, she turned her head and looked at Mike. "Cord will go down for this, won't he?" she asked.

"Oh yes," Mike assured her. "They'll throw away the key this time."

"He won't be able to plead insanity or anything, will he?" Jeannie worried. "I've heard of that happening and then they get let out of hospital…"

"He's sane," Mike snarled. "He was sane enough to plan this; he's sane enough to stand trial, too." Mike glanced over at Lenny, who was leaning on the wall looking tired. "Lenny will testify as to his state of mind."

There was another short silence, then Jeannie whispered, "Steve will be all right, won't he?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine, sweetheart," Mike promised, and blinked away the tears. He had always warned Jeannie not to date cops, but when the young couple had come to him, and Steve had asked for Jeannie's hand in marriage, he found that he didn't really mind at all. They were so crazy in love – just like he and Helen had been. But, he reflected sadly, this was exactly why he hadn't wanted Jeannie with a cop. Situations like this happened. Looking round the waiting room, Mike saw quite a few people there, all of them waiting for a loved one who was in an examination room. Things didn't just happen to cops; they happened to everyone.

"Mrs Keller?" The tall, slim doctor crossed the room to Jeannie and urged her to sit down again.

"How is he?" Jeannie asked, trying to sound calm and failing.

"Your husband is sleeping at the moment," the doctor replied. "We've taken x-rays and my guess has been confirmed. He has suffered a fractured skull."

The gasp Jeannie emitted was loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room. People glanced in her direction and then looked away, offering the only privacy they could in the circumstances. "A fractured skull?" Jeannie cried softly. "What does that mean? I mean…"

"It is a linear fracture, which is possibly the best kind to have," the doctor told her kindly, taking one of her hands and patting it paternally, even though he was probably younger than Jeannie. "It isn't depressed, but it does mean that we have to keep him in the hospital here for longer than we normally would for a serious concussion. We need to keep an eye on his brain to make sure it isn't swelling dangerously. At the moment, everything looks fine. We've done a CT scan and we'll repeat that tomorrow or the next day, depending on how he is getting on." The doctor paused to collect his thoughts and let that new digest. "As well as the bang on the head, he has serious abrasions on his wrists from a rope. We have cleaned and dressed them. His hands are extremely sore at the moment as the circulation gets going in his fingers again. We haven't found any obvious signs of damage, but we will need to wait until all the swelling is gone before we can be 100% sure. He has hypothermia and exposure and I suspect he is developing pneumonia. I've started him on antibiotics and I'll do a repeat chest x-ray later. What Professor Keller needs now is rest and quiet."

"Can I see him?" Jeannie asked, her expression daring the doctor to refuse. Mike felt himself tensing, ready to come to Jeannie's aid should the answer be negative.

"Of course," the doctor replied. "We've just settled him into a room. Don't stay too long; he needs his rest and I suspect so do you." He gave Jeannie a charming smile and Mike instantly liked the young doctor.

"Thank you," Jeannie replied and she and Mike followed the doctor down the corridor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ICU was the worst place to be, Mike thought, but the neurology unit came a very close second in his opinion. Steve was hooked up to several monitors. Fluids dripped into his left arm from a couple of bags. There was a large bandage around his head. His eyes were closed and his face was pale. The head of the bed was raised to help prevent swelling in the brain. It looked as though he was developing a couple of black eyes, and Mike's blood boiled at the thought of Cord mistreating Steve.

"Steve?" Jeannie whispered, placing a hand on his arm. His fingers were dark red and swollen and the muscles were contracting minutely the whole time.

Slowly, Steve's eyes opened. He squinted against the lights, although they were pretty dim. "Jeannie?" he croaked. "You're safe!"

"So are you," Jeannie reminded him, stroking the side of his face tenderly. This cheek seemed to be about the only un-bruised place on his body. She had rarely seen her tough husband looking so fragile and vulnerable. "Mike got Cord," she went on. "It's over now."

"Over," Steve agreed. His eyes were closing again as he lost his fight against sleep.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave now," the nurse whispered. "It's long past visiting hours."

For a moment, Jeannie wanted to argue with the woman. She was afraid to leave Steve after coming so close to losing him. She wanted to stay with him and hold his hand and stroke his hair. But as she looked at Mike's weary, concerned, loving face, she knew that she had to go with her father. He needed her, too. Steve would be here tomorrow. "You'll call me if anything happens?" Jeannie asked.

"Of course," the nurse replied. "Visiting hours start at 10am."

"Thank you," Jeannie sighed and she found herself leaning on Mike as they walked down the corridor to the exit, even though she had meant to support him. "Mike, I'm sorry about earlier," she said. Exhaustion was setting in and she wondered how either of them would be able to drive. "I didn't mean to be so rude to you."

"You weren't rude," Mike replied gruffly. "You were worried." He kissed her cheek briefly. "But it's over now."

They walked another few paces in silence.

"Until the trial," Jeannie sighed.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve was very ill for several days. As the doctor had predicted, he developed pneumonia despite the antibiotics. He suffered from a constant thumping in his head, even though he was given regular painkillers. The returning circulation in his hands had almost driven him mad the first night, but by the second day, his fingers, although still slightly swollen, were back to a normal colour and tests showed that there was no permanent damage. Jeannie spent every moment that she could by his bedside, gently bathing his face with cool water as his fever spiked and holding his hand during his nightmarish dreams. After a few days, the antibiotics won out, Steve's fever broke and he fell into a natural, healing sleep.

When he woke, he was as weak as a kitten. It took several more days before Steve ate more than just the odd mouthful and it was a full week after his kidnapping before he was allowed out of bed. After that, he made rapid progress, although the skull fracture kept him in hospital for another week after that, for monitoring. Jeannie and the kids stayed with Mike in the city and Jeannie took leave from her work. Berkeley was very understanding about Steve's absence and told him not to worry about being off.

When Steve was released from the hospital, he, too, went to Mike's house, instead of the big, old rambling house that he and his family shared near the university. Cord's trial had been postponed until Steve was well enough to testify. Initially, there had been fears that Steve's head injury might have affected his memory, but luckily, he remembered pretty much everything. In some respects, Jeannie thought that was a pity; she knew that she would never forget those tortured hours.

On the morning that the trial started, Steve set his alarm slightly earlier than he really needed to, just to give himself a little extra time to get going. He found that if he did things too quickly in the mornings, his head began to ache and the last thing he wanted was a headache when he went into the court room. Jeannie rose with him and made him a cup of coffee. To his chagrin, he wasn't allowed too much caffeine at the moment. He had got into the habit of drinking several cups of the stuff per day when a cop and the habit had followed him to the university.

When Mike stumbled into the kitchen, Steve went to get showered and dressed. Jeannie roused and fed the kids and got them organised to get to school. They knew what was going on, but Jeannie refused to allow them to sit at home just waiting. It was better for them to be kept busy and she made sure that the school was kept abreast of what was happening.

They were met at the courthouse by Dan Robbins, Mike's last partner. "What are you doing here?" Mike asked.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here?" Dan countered. "I wanted to see this guy Cord put away. The guys at work have talked about nothing else since I got back."

"You sure picked the right time to go on vacation," Steve told him, smiling at the dark haired man.

"That's a matter of opinion," Dan replied. "How are you, Steve?"

"I'm doing all right," Steve replied. "Better every day. I hope to get back to work in the next week or two."

"Well, we'll get Cord put away today and then you can put your feet up for the next couple of weeks and let your gorgeous wife tend to your every need," Dan agreed, grinning at Jeannie.

"Seems you've forgotten all I taught you about women's lib," Jeannie retorted. "I wait on nobody hand and foot." She shot Steve a look, knowing that he could say she had done just that while he had been ill, but he wasn't going to say anything about that.

"Let's not stand out here yabbing," Mike complained. "That's a cold wind." He wasn't bothered by the wind himself, but he thought Steve might be. The younger man was wearing only a sports coat over a shirt and tie and Mike thought he ought to be wearing something warmer.

"You've gone all soft since you retired," Dan teased as they went inside.

It was a familiar place for them all. Jeannie had come to the courts to meet Mike and Steve many times over the years and they had lost count of the occasions they had come here for work-related purposes. The grand marble hallway was as imposing as ever and the stairs still dominated the area. Mike headed for the lift. Steve was not walking one step more than necessary.

Touched by his father-in-law's thoughtfulness, Steve hid the grin he wanted to let loose and obediently followed him. They were whisked to the second floor in moments and walked along the carpeted corridor to the court room. They were ushered inside and took seats just behind the DA.

A few minutes later, Cord was brought in through a side door and the handcuffs he wore were removed. He sat at the table with his attorney and gave Steve a broad grin. Steve pretended to ignore him, but he could feel a flush crawl up his neck. Jeannie's hand was holding his and she squeezed his fingers slightly. Steve glanced at her and smiled.

Everyone rose for the judge and the trial began. Steve barely listened to the defence attorney's opening statements. He knew that his own character would be called into question and there was no point in getting annoyed before things really got going. He knew himself well enough to know that he still had a temper and losing it would play into Cord's hands.

Various witnesses were called, who set the scene for what had happened that night. Steve knew his own testimony would be last. Waiting was hard, though. It was tough hearing what his friends and family had endured because of Cord's desire for revenge.

Jeannie was called to the stand. She answered the questions she was asked calmly and clearly, keeping her eyes on Steve throughout. Once her testimony was finished, she was excused the stand and walked back to her seat. As she reached the swing gate that separated the court area from the public area, Cord made a move.

Everyone had been expecting something, but as time went on, they had all relaxed a bit. As Jeannie paused to open the gate, Cord leapt from his feet, shoved his attorney aside and made a grab for Jeannie. Jeannie screamed, the judge banged the gavel and Cord totally ignored him. His hand fastened on Jeannie's arm.

Already half out of his seat to allow Jeannie to pass him, Steve made a lunge for the criminal. He knew it was the last thing he should do; there were plenty of bailiffs and cops in the room, but they were all further away than he was and nobody was going to harm Jeannie – least of all this scumbag.

Evidently, Cord had hoped that Steve would make some kind of mad move. With amazing speed, he reached out his one free hand and caught Steve around the throat. With the other hand, he drew Jeannie in close and put his arm around her, covering her mouth with his hand and gripping her nose. The hand on Steve's throat started to squeeze. Steve choked.

"You'll go out together," Cord hissed. "And I'll have had my ultimate revenge!" He laughed wildly.

Steve was well on the road to recovery, but he was not back to full strength yet. It wasn't his own plight that worried him, although he could feel the world growing dim as Cord's hand tightened around his throat, cutting off his air. His whole being was intent on freeing Jeannie and he raised one hand and punched Cord heavily in the face.

The blow told, but not enough. Enraged, Steve started kicked and punching with both hands. He was never sure which blow was the one that freed his wife, but it was also the one that he knew spelled his own death. As Jeannie fell to the floor, gasping loudly for breath, Cord regrouped and punched Steve heavily in the stomach. The little breath that Steve had left whooshed out of his body. The room was dark now, and Steve wondered why nobody else was doing anything. As he blacked out, he vaguely heard a loud bang. _I'm dead,_ he thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When he opened his eyes again, some time had clearly passed, but exactly how much was a mystery. Jeannie was sitting beside him, crying and clutching his hand. She looked beautiful to Steve and he longed to tell her so, but his throat was so sore that swallowing was agony and speaking was out of the question. Still, he tried, but all that came from his mouth was a tortured croak. Jeannie half-laughed, choked and sobbed anew.

"Don't talk, Steve," urged a familiar voice. "Not until you've been seen by a doctor." Glancing up, Steve saw Dan Robbins leaning over him, his gun in his hand. "Jeannie, are you hurt?" he went on.

"No," Jeannie sniffed. She accepted a handkerchief he handed her and gingerly wiped her nose. Steve squeezed her hand to make her look at him and raised a tentative eyebrow. "I'm all right," she assured him. "What were you thinking?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Mike agreed acerbically. "In a court room full of cops, you had to tackle him!" Mike shook his head. "No, don't try to answer me. I know what you're going to say!" He let out a laugh that had a hint of something else in it – tears? Steve wasn't sure, but Mike knelt by them and swept them both into his arms. "I'm so glad you're all right," he choked.

Staying on his back seemed to be a good idea for the moment, Steve decided. His head was aching again and he guessed he had overdone it. He glanced down at his bloodied knuckles and then craned his neck to see what had happened to Cord while he had been having a nap. The movement hurt and he desisted at once, but Mike guessed what he wanted to know. "Dan shot him," Mike reported soberly. "Cord's dead."

As the paramedics crowded around him and Jeannie, Steve felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders. He knew Dan would not have shot to kill, but Cord was most likely a moving target and the detective knew that he had to take the first shot that presented itself to prevent further harm to Steve and Jeannie. Their family was safe; Cord was gone for good.

As Dan looked down on him where he lay on the stretcher, Steve reached his hand out. "Thanks," he mouthed. "Thank you very much."

Smiling, Dan nodded. He slipped away into the crowd as Steve and Jeannie left the court. Mike followed closely behind them. Revenge might have been a dish that Cord was serving very cold, but it had backfired against him and his victims were alive and would carry on living. Steve knew his injuries were not serious; he would make a full recovery and that, he decided, was the best revenge possible.

The End


End file.
